


Wind and Rain

by sterileflcwer



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 06:24:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19864975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterileflcwer/pseuds/sterileflcwer





	Wind and Rain

The wind was like blades, fiercely cutting over any exposed skin. Supposedly it was hot, yet Lewis Nixon froze, donning a jacket to cover his arms. Still, wind ripped over his neck and through his hair. It sounded like howling in his ears, the cry of bullets as they were burst from their mothers.  
The smell of salt was almost intoxicating, reminding him of horrible liquors that would easily nauseate anyone. He tensed, though his lower lip still moved in shutters as he almost gasped for air, begging for something fresh.  
When he turned his face to the wind, it almost forced his eyes shut. He was sure sand caught on his lashes. Sand that would burn cuts caused by such sharp winds.  
His fingers and palms felt sticky as he grasped the railing, salt finally burning his nose. He was sure that all exposed skin must have taken that feeling, especially as tears were forced from the corners of his eyes where he had never grown lashes.  
With a shaking hand, he touched the skin of his cheek, fingers gently dragging it downwards before his arm went limp as he shuttered again.  
The face— rather the blur— beside him removed their eyeglasses, feebly cleaning the glass in hopes to clear them. Another shiver overtook Lewis’s frame, once more gasping for a breath. A plea with the with the wind for a break.  
For one of the first times in his life, Lewis Nixon was totally unsure. Why would he be left shivering in July if everything was right, after all? Why would he feel so unsteady and why would the sea and wind sound like howling dogs? Why would he feel so helpless to wind?  
His eyes fully closed, the outermost corners burning. Once more, he seized from the wind, bracing himself.  
War had not stopped on September 2nd, 1945. Lewis Nixon was now fighting a battle against the wind— the terrible wind.


End file.
